


cracked under pressure (but that doesn't mean I'm broken)

by booksindalibrary



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, An Angry Boy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, The Effect of being frozen for eight years, Wrath Flames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksindalibrary/pseuds/booksindalibrary
Summary: Xanxus lost more than just eight years when he was frozen.





	cracked under pressure (but that doesn't mean I'm broken)

* * *

_**Raging**_

* * *

“The fuck are you doing? You'll hurt yourself, shitty boss.”

 _Oh, fuck off,_ Xanxus told him as he tried to inhale. He couldn't though, forgot he couldn't, and then panicked. Panicked so badly he thrashed violently, but his limbs were locked in place. Was this hell? It had to be, the old man had killed him. That shitty old man, looking down on him because of his birthplace.

“Voi, if you do that, you'll fuck yourself over.”

 _I know,_ he screamed. He fucking knew, and Squalo wasn't helping. He didn't help before, only passing responsibility onto him like the shitty subordinate he was. Everyone seemed to do that, like it was time to fucking gang up on Xanxus.

“Boss, calm down,” and it was Lussuria talking to him now. But he couldn't, he shouldn't, the Flames gave him so much life. They had brought him out of trouble, so much trouble, time and time again. They had _saved_ him, for Christ's sake, brought him from the bottom up.

“Shishishi, the prince-” the rest of his words was lost in the roar in Xanxus's ears. Fuck them all for failing him, fuck them, fuck them-

“Boss, I'll do anything for you,” and Xanxus shouted that _your best wasn't worth anything_ who did they think they were and why couldn't he move-

“Mu, I'll stay because the pay's good.”

And Xanxus hated them. They had failed him. Everyone had, and he had no one on his side strong enough to make him king. He wanted to be king, to rule over the fucking trash, and he would achieve this dream. This slum rat would climb to the top, and fuck the rest, he swore to himself. He didn't need them, didn't need anyone.

 _I hate you,_ he raged at the world blindly, feeling his Flames sharpen into razors and attempt to crack the ice. That wasn't normal, his Wrath wasn't normally so...precise.

His rage reached a peak, enough to break apart his skin. He felt it split, felt it crack under the pressure. His face was burning, as though someone was bringing a blowtorch slowly across his skin, over and over and over until he thought his flesh would _burn_ and char. Across his skin, over his eyes and his nose and down, to his chest, the sensation intensifying as time passed.

As the pain increased, his rage, his _wrath,_ flared even more until he thought he would burst. The flesh across his body was cut, without ever bleeding; and he was cold. It sank under his skin,leeching away at the warmth.

So cold. Where was the warmth? He forgot what warmth was, couldn't remember the taste of alcohol or what it felt like to lie in bed. When he tried to think about it, the sensation of suffocating enveloped him again.

He became used to the cold and missed the heat of the sun. The voices were calling for him again, telling him to live.

 _I'm trying,_ he told them, too tired to yell. He was so exhausted, he wanted to sleep. Sleep and never wake, or sleep and wake in a world where he was boss.

“..Varia's doing fine.” Squalo was speaking, and Xanxus was mute. _Give me warmth, free me,_ he wanted to tell him urgently.

“I had to sneak in here, but- We're working on it. A way to get you out. Don't worry.”

He was worried. Squalo knew nothing about anything. How could he just wait and be set free like some goddamn Disney princess?

But he was so tired, too tired to do anything. Xanxus allowed his mind to fall down into the depths of sleep, hoping the next time he woke he would be out.

***

He wasn't. He couldn't move, he was frozen, and the rage was back. This time he really thought his bosy was breaking under the pressure. He heard a sharp snap with no pain.

The cold dulled it, but his leg was broken. Oh, fuck. That wasn't fair. He wanted to walk away from this standing, under his own strength.

Was this because of his birth? Did the shitty old man sneer at him in this ice, call him another slum rat, sit at him, tell him he deserved this?

Just imagining it was enough to make Xanxus's Flames flare yet again, and this time it really did break his body.

It hurt his mind more though.

***

When he next became aware of the world, he was shivering.

Shivering? He opened his eyes, a miraculous movement, then grinned, his lips splitting and bleeding, his face shifting oddly.

Pain was everywhere, all encompassing. His leg screamed at him not to move, his arms limp and spread across the floor, his organs shredded and put through a juicer.

“...Oh.” A voice, a real human trash said to him, but he didn't hear the rest.

“Xanxus,” someone said, and he felt hands on him.

He flinched, the movement causing his body to scream _don't_.

Don't? Oh yeah, all this blood isn't good, he thought blindly, staring at the red down his shirt. Liquid dripped off his face, fluid made his hands slippery. It was all so less than the pain in his leg, but something else was wrong.

He couldn't place it, and dismissed it. He was out of the cold, and into the warmth. He could figure out who he was later.

* * *

_**Breaking**_

* * *

"Who are you, old man?” He threw this at the man with the staff, who looked curiously at him, disbelieving.

“Do you really not know?”

Xanxus shook his head in confusion. “My name...” He stared at his hands, then clenched them, pressing them against his face. “I don't know, why don't I-”

Pain again, his body aching and his chest tightening. He dropped his limp hands, staring at them brokenly. He remembered all that blood that made his grip slippery, remembered what it was like to rely on everyone else to carry him.

“My leg.” Xanxus clutched his leg, which had been healed through Sun Flames. “My leg, it's unusable.”

“That's not true, you can-”

“I'm useless,” he muttered, and then repeated the words over and over, deaf to the rest of the world. Timoteo eventually gave up trying to talk to Xanxus.

He left his adopted son shell-shocked and rocking back and forth, each wondering where they had gone wrong.

***

After a few days, memories trickled in, vague suggestions of hunger and dirt. A woman, telling him he was _great_ and that he was _powerful_ ; he had to wonder how true that was. From what he had heard, he had done something bad, and then had been put in the ice.

In the ice, if he messed up again he would be back in the ice. It scared him – no, it terrified him. He didn't want to, couldn't stand to think about what that would be like, how it would feel to trapped there again.

He remembered putting his hand in the gutter, fishing out coins and _shit_ and beating others into the ground for their food and money and clothes. Why was he like this?

He gripped his hair and curled up, ignoring the pain of his hands. What had he done?

“ _Mother, what are you doing?”_

The woman looked at him. _“Business.”_

“ _Business?”_

“ _Yeah. Don't worry about it; it'll make us rich._ ”

Rich? Was that even possible? They were slum rats, the lowest of the low, barely able to have a meal a day. His hands were filthy. Xanxus flexed them instinctively, wincing at the sharp pain.

“Trash,” he groaned at a presence he thought he sensed.

“Voi, you're really out of it, boss.” Xanxus frowned at the man with long hair, struggling to focus. He closed his eyes again, muttering, “Get out.”

“Voi! That's no way to treat me after all these years-”

Xanxus held up a hand with great effort. “Who are you?” He had to fight to get the words out.

The man stopped and glared. “Don't play dumb.”

Xanxus's hand dropped. “You callin' me dumb?” His accent thickened, regressing into slang. “Fuck off, I dunno who you are-”

“VOI! THE FUCK'S WRONG WITH YOU-”

“Shaddup,” Xanxus spat out, clamping his hands over his ears. “Shut it, trash, be silent-” He kept chanting the words, blank eyes fixed straight ahead. His whole body hurt, everything ached and complained and refused to function properly. His breaths came out in gasps, his mind crumbling under the pressure.

Once again, his world went dark.

***

He woke again, this time the murmur of voices flowing around him. When he twitched, they stopped, and Xanxus opened his eyes to concerned faces.

“Xanxus,” the old man said, overly worried.

Xanxus recognised his name but not the man. “Oh...” he looked around vaguely, hate wallowing inside his gut; it was unclear what it was directed at, what the anger wanted to rage at.

“Where's mother?” Xanxus said stupidly, trying to sit up, bandaged hands trembling under his weight. This place was too lxurious for him – must be a hotel or something, maybe someone took him in, did his mother give up something important?

“Your mother...” the old man – Xanxus thought he should _know_ this guy's name – only looked more and more anxious as time went on. “She's not here.”

Xanxus ignored those words, and the faces of whom he presumed were doctors, and shoved away the blankets. “The fuck,” he muttered, thick dialect breaking his voice. “What the _fuck,_ ” and the word was said violently, accompanied by a vicious kick at the bed. “What are you lookin' at?” He challenged the other occupants, swinging his legs off the bed (finally, but he was so, so exhausted and tired and he wanted just to _die)_.

“How old am I?” He demanded, staring – gaping – at his body, so massive and what was up with his hair? He caught sight of himself in the mirror. Mustering up his strength, he wobbled over to his reflection, nearly crumbling right then and there. Something was wrong, something was broken inside his head.

He didn't recognise the face looking back.

* * *

_**Fading** _

* * *

What the hell? He gazed almost drunkenly at his reflection, his strength fading and draining through his feet. His knees buckled, and he fell, landing with a heavy thud.

“Old man,” he croaked, and heard him stir behind him. “Who am I?”

A pause. “You are Xanxus.”

“Xanxus,” he repeated numbly. “I know that. How old am I?”

A hesitation. “Twenty-four,” the man said weakly, and a shiver trickled down Xanxus's spine. Something was up, something was wrong, but his damn mind wouldn't let him _know._

“I'm Timoteo, your father,” the old man continued, almost cautiously.

Caution was the correct approach, it seemed, because almost instantly Xanxus fell into fury, the sick feeling of hate pressing against his throat, hissing in his ear to _kill_ and _wound._

Xanxus bit back the hate, bending over and taking a moment to recollect himself. “So you're the Vongola boss, huh.” He had heard about the Ninth from his time on the streets and from his mother. His father, and he hated him for unknown reasons. Hated him, wanted to _kill_ him, destroy him, make him suffer and bleed and _lock him away somewhere cold-_

Oh god what was he thinking? He didn't understand, didn't know why he thought those things. All he knew was the slums and the pain of just being _cold_.

Outside of that, he didn't understand anything.

***

Italy was suffocating Xanxus. The slums were a foul reminder of his past, and the opulence dug into his mind and jeered at the lack of memory he had.

He learned he was the so-called _boss_ of Varia, which explained the long-haired man, Xanxus thought. It annoyed him to think he had a subordinate as loud as him, but it is what it is.

All of it was too much. Xanxus was tempted to just run away from this shit, never lay eyes on Vongola again. It didn't matter how much he craved the riches or the position of Decimo, he didn't want to deal with these people.

Along the way he learned of a Japanese boy who had a claim to the seat of Decimo. Xanxus had dismissed ar first – he was after all the top candidate, and some shitty brat couldn't change that – but then he realised that if he didn't regain his memory, he would be shafted.

Xanxus wanted to run away from it all. Where was his mother? Where was his memories?

***

Xanxus flew to Japan, and wandered the streets, having enough money to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

No one in Vongola or Varia tried to contact him, and Xanxus had to wonder what sort of man he'd been. The kind to drive away others?

Maybe they all hated him, Xanxus thought, and that made sense. He hated himself, so why would others care?

On his journey – no, not a journey, just call it fuckin' travelling – he wound up in some shit town that he didn't even bother to learn the name of. He turned into an alley, then all the _rage_ caught up to him and he slammed his fist into the wall.

And again, blood running down his knuckles. Again, and so what if his bones broke? Again, and why did everything hurt?

“Are you okay?” A boy's voice called, and Xanxus twisted around to look at the idiot who spoke to him.

“Fuck off, trash,” Xanxus grumbled, stalking towards him.

The boy shrieked, and another came running, calling him _Juudaime._

Xanxus glared down at the boy who had fallen. “...Sawada Tsunayoshi?”

The baby in the suit was studying him, and Xanxus noted his presence, disregarding the dynamite and the baseball bat.

The boy was still trembling as Xanxus leaned down and hoisted him up by his collar. “...What the fuck? Are you supposed to lead Vongola?”

The boy was shaking, eyes wide. He shook his head furiously at Xanxus's words, babbling about how he didn't want to be Decimo.

Xanxus clicked his tongue in annoyance, feeling himself weaken. _Rage_ had kept him going for so long, but now it was – fading?

***

Xanxus had never been the sort to 'pass out', but apparently the new, amnesiac Xanxus was that sort of person. He woke in a room that was not his, in clothes that weren't his, in a house that (probably) wasn't his.

He stayed still for a moment, still groggy and hungry enough to kill the first hunk of meat to walk through the door. Or at least, that's what he thought, until it was Sawada who walked in.

 _Not worth it._ Xanxus watched Sawada jerk away from him, amused at the way Sawada babbled more nonsense. He was too skinny. Fuck – he needed to eat, more than Xanxus did. (Not that Xanxus would give up his food.)

“Shut up,” he finally said, pleased his voice sounded normal. The boy shut his mouth with a click, the baby in the suit studying him closely.

“Xanxus.”

Xanxus flicked a look at this baby-that-was-not-a-baby. “You know me.”

The baby didn't blink. “You don't know me.”

Xanxus instinctively _knew_ not to cross this killer-child. Even if he had his full strength, Xanxus would _lose_ and maybe _die._

Xanxus threw off the sheets and swung his legs out of the bed, loathing the trembling in his limbs. It took a lot to stand, even more to take a step.

Sawada was still shaking, and Xanxus didn't understand why. He wasn't angry, not the sort of angry that ignited his Flames and destroyed towns and gave him life. Just the mild sort that always lingered in the back of his mind.

“Whose clothes?”

“My father's,” the boy replied, rushing through the words.

Xanxus studied him for a moment. “Iemitsu's?” The name came unbidden.

The boy studied the ground, hearing the venom Xanxus spat out. “Yeah? The only clothes that would fit you...how did you know his name?”

Xanxus shrugged. “I don't remember.” He wouldn't kill Sawada, not yet.

“Oh.” Sawada shifted uncomfortably. “So, like. Do you want to have dinner?”

Xanxus glared at Sawada. “Of course, trash.”

Sawada helped him down the stairs, Reborn sitting on Sawada's head. Xanxus rejected help on the landing; it was bad enough he was now relying on the goodwill of trash, he wouldn't look weak in front of anyone else, never show weakness-

Xanxus was tempted to rob the house. It would be easy, after he regained his strength. These people were well off, they could afford to lose a few thousand. But that was old thinking, from back when he was a child. That wouldn't do, he couldn't go back.

Xanxus sat, internally warring, obediently eating the food put in front of him.

***

“Xanxus.”

He flinched at the use of his name, turning to glare at the blonde. “Who the fuck are you?”

A flicker of surprise. “You don't remember me?”

“Of course not,” Xanxus scoffed.

“I'm Dino,” he said, studying him. “You...really don't remember anything.” He seemed almost relieved. “I guess being angry is just natural for you then, huh.”

“Angry,” Xanxus repeated. “I'm not angry.” A lie. He was always anger – whether it simmered in his gut or burned his throat, the rage was always there.

Dino smiled, almost – but not quite – sadly. “If you say so.”

And Xanxus wondered if it was okay to attack him. Given the killer-child was watching, he decided not to.

***

Xanxus became almost docile in his time in the Sawada household; but not quite, as his rage still remained. When Mukuro picked off citizens of Namimori, Xanxus refused to help, but also did not _hinder_. So Tsuna ventured out, Xanxus deciding that a win would mean he deserved to be Decimo. (Or, not as useless as Xanxus thought he was.)

Tsuna did return, victorious and mostly intact. Xanxus retreated to his 'room', trying to decide why he approved of Tsuna.

His memories were still absent when the white-haired man arrived.

He didn't sense, at first. Had no clue he was in town. He only knew when Tsuna stumbled home, telling him about it. Xanxus blinked at him.

“Black clothes?” He asked. “And a sword?”

“Yeah,” Tsuna agreed. “Wait – you know him?”

“Maybe,” was all Xanxus said, disturbed. Why was he here? In Japan?

Tsuna's father also showed up, earning Xanxus's instant loathing. Apparently Tsuna felt similarly, given the look on his face and the tone he spoke with.

Xanxus thought maybe, just maybe, the boy did knew what he was doing, some of the time.

* * *

_**Burning** _

* * *

 Xanxus followed Tsuna out of the house, more of a hunch than anything else. The cow brat was missing. Dammit – the cow, Lambo, had disappeared, and for some reason Xanxus was disturbed.

He trailed behind them, knowing Reborn knew he was there and choosing to ignore his existence. The baby could do whatever he wanted for all he cared.

So the family Reborn had helped shaped had worked, as well. They were good enough to defend the silly children who had put themselves in harm's way. Xanxus glanced at Tsuna, seeing his relief. Should he have felt the same? He was so detached-

“Boss,” he heard a voice say, and silence as Xanxus realised that was directed at _him._

He turned to look at them, not recognising them.

“Who are you?” He asked slowly, aware of the gazes of the so-called Decimo and his guardians.

“Boss? I'm Levi.” The man was clearly confused and hurt – probably wondering why Xanxus didn't know him.

And the others gathered around him, all of them gaping at Xanxus.

“Voi! What the fuck are you doing with them?” The long-haired man was yelling, the others chiming in with their own words-

Xanxus rubbed his temple, glaring at them. “Shut up. You're giving me a headache, trash.”

He turned to look at Reborn. “Do I know them?”

Reborn only stared back, looking smug and unhelpful. Xanxus sighed and, looking back at them, asked wearily, “What the fuck do you want?”

The long-haired man blinked at him in disbelief. “We're going to make _you_ Decimo,” he said after a pause.

“Me.”

“You are the Ninth's son, after all.”

Tsuna yelped, flinching away from Xanxus for no apparent reason. How his family reacted, Xanxus didn't know, mainly because of the burning sensation clawing up his throat.

_Suffocating and raging and dying and burning and it hurts and it hurts it's all his fault-_

Whose fault is it?

 _It's all_ his _fault let's get him back-_

How? There was no way he could achieve _that-_

 _Yes, there is a way,_ a voice whispered, making Xanxus look at them all, one by one. Their names flickered into his mind, surfacing from the back of his mind,

 _Squalo, Belphegor, Levi, Lussuria, Mammon._ Varia.

And Xanxus was back.

**Author's Note:**

> a bday fic for him ;) what have I done
> 
> >:3c a different format from me
> 
> considering continuing this but marked as complete just in case. it's abt a 50/50 toss up if I do continue, and expand this fic
> 
> hmm


End file.
